


Slow and Steady

by rockstarpeach



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Sam, Coaxing, Explicit Sexual Content, Fisting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockstarpeach/pseuds/rockstarpeach
Summary: Dean wants to try something new in the bedroom and even though Sam's a little apprehensive, Dean's pretty sure he can convince him.  Dirty, dirty porn.  Schmoopy, loving, dirty porn.  Written for a prompt that basically asked for fisting





	Slow and Steady

Tonight.

Sam’s been a little hesitant up to now, shying away and only letting Dean take things so far. Dean figures that’s probably because he’s always a little too eager, kind of wants to just jump straight the finish and he hasn’t been as careful as he could have been. And Sam’s no delicate little flower or anything, far from it, but Dean gets that some things need working up to.

Some things need time, patience and a delicate touch. Three things that Dean’s not exactly known for.

But tonight it’s going to be different. _He’s_ going to be different.

He’s got it all planned out. He’s got a few beers chilling in the fridge to help Sam relax, he’s stopped by the drug store and picked up some ‘therapeutic’ body oil (it’s really just lube, but it smells like strawberries) and he’s got some of Sam’s bullshit easy listening crap playing on his ipod.

He’s also done the laundry so the motel sheets are clean and lavender scented, just like Sam likes and he made it a point to tell Sam how good he looked today. Twice.

Sure, Sam had looked at him a little funny when Dean said that the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep really brought out the colour, but he’s pretty sure Sam actually smiled a little when he was working on his laptop earlier and Dean kissed him on the cheek, said softly “Nerds are so hot.”

Anyway, Dean’s pretty sure his plan is working, because he’s currently got Sam naked and flat out on the bed under him, as Dean straddles his thighs and works the strawberry oil into the loosening muscles of Sam’s shoulders and back. And okay, so getting Sam naked isn’t really so hard. He likes to protest a lot and act like kind of a prude when Dean makes suggestions and innuendo, but really, he’s just as easy as Dean is.

Especially when Dean offers him a massage, which isn’t something that happens all the damn time. Tonight is special.

It’s not like Dean’s trying to ply Sam with booze and niceties to get him to put out. That would be wrong. Besides, Sam pretty much always puts out, so it would be kind of a waste of time and effort, too.

Dean honestly likes doing things for Sam, sometimes. He likes to treat him well, because Sam deserves it. Plus, he’s really fuckin’ hot and Dean’s a man, after all. He’ll do anything for a pretty face.

He’ll admit that he _is_ trying extra hard today to get Sam to relax, though. To get him in the mood and to turn him into a pliant, unresisting mess under his very skilled hands. But Sam knows that, knows Dean’s plan and he’s already got three beers in him and he’s doing his best to keep his eyes closed and melt into Dean’s ministrations, let himself go while Dean’s thumbs kneed into the flesh around his tailbone and he whispers softly.

“Yeah, Sammy. Just relax. Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

“Slow, Dean. Okay?” Sam mumbles as Dean lifts off him, shifts to settle in between Sam’s thighs and helps to spread them, angles Sam’s hips so he can raise up slightly onto his knees. He tenses a little as Dean dribbles some more of the lube into the crack of his ass, pulls his cheeks apart and slides his thumbs between them. “Just… slow.”

He doesn’t ask Dean not to, doesn’t say ‘Please, Dean just fuck me instead’, doesn’t buck Dean off and call off the whole thing. Just asks Dean to go slow and damn it, Dean’s going to go as slow as fucking humanly possible, because Sam is amazing for giving him this, for letting him try again, after half a dozen failures.

“It’s okay, Sam,” Dean says, slides his thumbs right into Sam’s hole with no trouble at all. Sam moans a happy sounding moan and he raises his hips slightly, invites Dean further inside. Dean smiles and takes one thumb out, bites his lip to keep from laughing when Sam whimpers as he pulls out completely. “Gonna get you there. Trust me.”

Dean uses one of his hands to spread Sam’s cheeks wide, covers the other in more slick and bunches three of his fingers together tight and slowly, so slowly he slides them in. 

“Dean,” Sam breaths out, his fingers clench in the pillow beneath him and he smiles, just slight and warm and Dean knows Sam loves this. This part, Sam could do all damn night if Dean wanted him to.

Dean… couldn’t. Oh, he’d want to. Fuck, he’d want to do this to Sam for fucking _ever_ if he could, but he just can’t. The sight Sam makes, hole straining and pinching, fluttering around his fingers like it wants to close but it can’t because Dean’s _inside_ him, holding him open, it makes Dean crazy.

He wants to go further, _needs_ to go further. Needs to see Sam stretched as far as he can possibly go. Wants to see him so wide and open that he can’t breathe anymore, see his hole stretched so tight that it’s round and pale and can’t even flex anymore because that’s just fucking _it_. He wants to see Sam stretched out around his goddamn wrist with his fist up Sam’s slick channel while Sam cries and writhes and begs under him and then he wants _more_.

He pumps his fingers in and out a few times, grabs the bottle and pours even _more_ slick over them, places a hand on Sam’s tailbone to steady him and takes a deep breath. This is usually where it starts to hurt, where Sam puts up with it for a little while and then tells Dean that he can’t do it and Dean gets frustrated and tries to rush it and Sam freaks out and they end up not having sex for weeks after.

This is the part that’s going to be different, because Dean’s going to go as slow as Sam needs, and he’s _not_ taking no for an answer. Unless Sam really means it, but he’s hoping it won’t come to that.

He moves his hand in and out for a long time, tells Sam how good he looks around him, how sexy he is like this, needy and gorgeous and giving Dean everything he wants. He loosens Sam up nice and good, strokes over his balls and dick a few times to watch him squirm and listen to him suck in sharp breaths of arousal and finally, finally when Sam feels soft and unresisting below him, he slides a fourth finger in along with the rest.

He feels Sam tense around him but it’s only for a split second, feels Sam breath in and out to steady himself and then he’s still again, waiting, taking whatever Dean gives him.

“Good boy,” Dean says and immediately cringes, because what the fuck? _Good boy_? Like Sam’s some kind of fucking _dog_ or something? “Sorry, shit. I mean… You’re doing good, Sam. Four fingers. Almost all the way.”

Sam nods, eyes closed and his nose crinkles slightly, like he’s concentrating really fucking hard on staying still, open and relaxed.

“’S not so bad,” Sam manages to get out between slightly clenched teeth. “It’s kinda…” he breaks off on a hitch of breath when Dean curls his fingers, brushes two tips over Sam’s prostate as he pumps in and out at a snail’s pace. “Shit! Kinda good, when you do that. Just…”

“Just what, Sammy?” Dean asks, curls his hand around and watches Sam’s rim stretch and blanche with the movement, watches the blood drain as he works his fingers in just a _little_ bit more.

“Argh! I don’t think… I don’t think I can take anymore.”

Dean doesn’t stop though, tightens his fingers to make them as small as he can and pushes them the tiniest bit deeper, curls his thumb close to press the tip up against the soft, taut skin of Sam’s rim. He won’t do more than Sam can actually take, but he knows Sam can take more than this.

He’s always stopped at this point in the past, but he’s never had to. He can push, still. He can push and Sam can take and he’s going to show Sam. Show him how good it can be when he does something he never thought he could.

“Dean!”

Sam’s panting heavily now, face pressed to the pillow as he grips at the cotton so hard Dean thinks it might tear. He’s not saying ‘no’, though. He’s not saying ‘stop’. So, Dean doesn’t.

“You can do it, Sam,” he says, voice soothing and low as his thumb breeches Sam’s tight entrance. 

“Dean, I don’t think I can.” He shakes his head violently, once and Dean can see the skin under his eyes glisten with moisture as his jaw clenches.

“You can,” Dean assures him, bends down over Sam so he can wrap his free arm around him, sooth his palm up and down Sam’s chest as he whispers in his ear. “I promise, you can. And it’s gonna feel _so_ good.”

“Yeah, for _you_ , maybe,” Sam snaps and Dean lets out a soft chuckle because if Sam can still joke about this, he’s definitely okay.

“Trust me,” Dean tells him and Sam nods, quick jerk of his head down and then Dean feels him go lax, feels his hole give just enough slack for Dean to slip his thumb in past the knuckle.

“Jesus,” Sam says, still high-pitched and tight, but he’s not actively fighting it anymore, he’s letting Dean in and it’s fucking _wonderful_.

“Past the hardest part, now. The biggest part of my hand is past the rim. Just need to push. Make a fist.”

Dean groans as he does what he told Sam, slides his hand forward until all he can see is Sam’s ass clenching down around his wrist, thick and tanned and a stark contrast to Sam’s pale skin. When he tucks his fingers in, curls them towards each other he brushes against Sam’s sweet spot again, makes him flinch and cry out and he feels Sam warm and tight and soft all around him and it fucking _does_ things to him.

“Oh my God,” he says, pumps his fist a few times and then starts to shift it forward, just a little, then a little more. Pulls it back and starts again. All in all it’s only moving about an inch or two, but Jesus fucking Christ, he’s fucking Sam with his fucking _fist_! How awesome is that?

Dean kneels up straighter, sits back enough so that after he draws his hand down the sleek, smooth skin of Sam’s back, over every knob of his spine, tracing every mole and freckle along the way, he can move two thick fingers along his forearm, tips pressed right to his wrist bone.

“Gonna give you just a little more,” he promises, curls over to kiss Sam between his shoulder blades, turns his head and presses his cheek against Sam’s back, breathes out hot against his skin. “Do this for me, Sammy. You’re doing so good. Fuck, so good for me. You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“I’m trying,” Sam tells him, spread his legs a little more and Dean almost dies, because _holy shit_. “I’m trying, Dean, but it’s so much. I think too much.”

“Not yet,” Dean says, kisses Sam’s skin once more and pulls back. He drags his fingers through the leaking lube to slick them and then presses them both in at once, past the tight ring of muscle and inside Sam along with his other hand.

Sam screams then, loud and high and muffled in the pillow but it’s enough to stop Dean in his tracks.

It’s not too much yet, but it’s definitely enough. Sam can take this, he can like this and get off on this, but this is it. At least for today, this is as far as it goes. Dean can’t even be disappointed that he only got one hand inside, not with the sight in front of him, Sam bent over and spread wide and screaming and squirming on Dean’s fist.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, pitching his tone as soft and easy as possible, because both his hands are occupied and he can’t comfort Sam that way. “Shhh, it’s okay. This is it, promise. This is all we’re doing. Touch your dick, Sam. I want to, want to do it but I can’t. Do it for me. Please.”

Sam turns his head to the side and squeezes his eyes shut tighter, slams his right fist into the mattress next to his head once before he does what Dean tells him, slips his hand under his hips.

“It’s soft,” he says, nearly a whine and Dean was hoping that wouldn’t happen, but he’s not surprised.

“That’s okay. It’s okay. Just stroke it, slowly, okay? I won’t move. Just get it hard again, Sam.”

He feels Sam move under him, little shakes as he pulls on his cock and Dean does as he promised. He holds still, doesn’t move a muscle, just tells Sam over and over how perfect Sam is, how beautiful.

“That’s it, Sam. Doing so well. You there yet? You hard again? Do you want to come?”

Sam nods and then he moves his free hand closer to his mouth so he can bite on his knuckle, white teeth vibrant and nearly glowing against the deep orange of the linen. 

“I do. I think I do.”

“Okay,” Dean says and he slips his two fingers free. Sam moans again and once the tension on his rim lessens slightly he actually starts to move his hips, pump them back and forth in small motions between Dean’s fist and his own. Dean bends all the way over again, buries his face in the back of Sam’s neck and places a sloppy kiss there.

He reaches his hand around, replaces Sam’s where it’s jerking him and the easy slip-slide of his lube-covered fingers makes Sam groan and jerk his hips faster.

“Yeah. Yeah, Dean, come on. Do it. Fuck me. _Please_.” 

As if Dean could deny Sam anything, at this point. As if he wouldn’t do anything Sam asked _any_ time, let alone when he’s this turned on and desperate for it. Dean loves it when that switch gets turned, when it goes from pain to pleasure, from ‘can’t take it’ to ‘need more’.

Dean twists his wrist, nudges his knuckles upward to brush Sam’s prostate on each shallow thrust and he wraps his other hand tight around Sam’s cock, strokes fast and brutal to get him off as quickly as possible.

Sam won’t like it if this lasts too long and Dean wants him to remember this as a good thing.

“Go ahead,” Dean coaxes, lips pressed to the shell of Sam’s ear as his tongue slips out to trace along the whorls. “Come for me, Sammy.”

Sam does, not half a minute later and Dean holds him close as best he can, with both hands occupied. It’s quick and hard and Dean’s own cock jerks in empathy as he works Sam through it, pushes him to the edge and over, brings him safely back down.

“That was,” Sam mumbles, dazed and slack in his arms. “Wow.”

Dean smiles and his heart kind of flutters a little.

He’s got Sam’s come sloppy on his fingers and his other hand is messy with slick as he pulls it out of Sam, so, co carefully. It’s really kind of gross, but he still takes the time to gently roll Sam over, ease him down onto the bed and press a soft kiss to his lips before he gets up.

“Gotta wash,” he explains, waving his dirty hands around like a moron as he backs towards the bathroom and Sam just smiles lazily up at him.

“Yeah. Bring me some water, would ya?”

“Sure thing, princess,” Dean answers with a smirk and as soon as the bathroom door closes behind him he grips his own aching erection with the fist covered in Sam’s spunk. He jerks himself quick and effortless, comes in seconds into the toilet and then cleans himself up.

He fills a glass with water for Sam and wets a cloth with some warm water. Sam’s kind of a mess, too and though he’ll probably already be passed out by the time Dean gets out there, he’ll be pissed as fuck if he wakes up sloppy and sticky as well as sore in the morning.

As it is, Dean’s going to have to do all the heavy lifting for a while. Besides, he needs to stay on Sam’s good side, if he wants to take it even further, next time.

END


End file.
